


Rewiring

by purplekitte



Category: Black Legion - Aaron Dembski-Bowden, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Emotions, Hate Sex, M/M, Missing Scene, Psychic Sex, Psychic Violence, Talon of Horus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brotherhood was all we had, and I could not do this to a brother, even one I hated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rewiring

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from [tumblr](http://adepta-astarte.tumblr.com/post/98093807281/i-want-i-was-reading-something-and-then-i-wrote-a)

I restored Telemachon’s emotions to him, not because any, even Abaddon, had told me to, but because it needed done. Brotherhood was all we had, and I could not do this to a brother, even one I hated. Abaddon had chosen me to call to him because of that, deeply intertwined in everything. I could have done it without a touch, but it was delicate work and symbolism is symbolism.

I made love to him as I worked, worked the Art through touch of skin against skin as surely as rewiring neurons, because intention is act and metaphor is reality. You might wonder why I use that turn of phrase, it doesn’t sound like one a transhuman warrior should. By all means we fucked in the purely physical sense, but that was the least of it. It was knowing each other, in senses euphemistic and not, a brotherhood beyond affection, beyond the hatred we bore for each other before, during, and after. We don’t necessarily express them in the same manners as those most commonly found in the vast herds of humanity, but we are not without their emotions. Love too.

Pleasure slithered and jolted through his long dormant nerves as I held him in my arms, the sheer nearness awakening the conditioning I’d put in him last time before I even began my second reshaping. I fed more and more into him, pleasure enough to drown in.

He had not screamed the first time. Nor this time, but he was not silent. He moaned for me, soft whimpers and gasps. He neither tried to reign them in nor did he draw them out into a lewd show like he might have done for the benefit of his old Legion. ‘Khayon,’ he whispered. Nor a plea to stop or go forward, simply a lover’s acknowledgement of who he was with.

I funnelled pleasure into him, and pain, joy and sorrow and anger and boredom and shame and gratitude and regret and pity and loneliness and horror and desire. More than he could comprehend, more than his neural architecture was able to hold, and still I flooded him with it and slowly remade him to be able to.

He arched under me in helpless muscle spasms, grasping at me with the beautiful, perfect body I had shaped to my will. As with his mind, I filled his body with more than it could handle, and it took some time for my thrusts to grow easy as his body relaxed to take me in, for us to find a rhythm.

I could feel from the deepest reaches of his mind not just _what_ he was feeling, but how it felt to be him, feeling those things. To work him so deeply I had to be him, on some level, tasting the ecstatic fulfilment of every sensation running through him, good or bad and with no distinction between those that made him weep and those that brought golden laughter to his lips. He was addicted to it, addicted to everything rather than just to me, but at that moment that was little enough of a distinction as I was every light in the galaxy to him. He, I, was utterly laid open for another, body, mind, and soul, and he loved me for it and for being there with him as surely as he hated the violation of it and hated me.

Oh how he hated me. Oh how he remembered to hate me.

I kissed him, and he threaded his fingers through my hair, all our grudges and humiliations and mistrust between us, and there was love, of a sort, too. Every word I speak is true, as best I can explain it.


End file.
